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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27050728">Petals of the Fallen Gun</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoySauceSocks/pseuds/SoySauceSocks'>SoySauceSocks</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Punisher (TV 2017), Warrior Nun (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Avatrice, F/F, Oh god why'd I do this to myself, The Punisher Show, warrior nun - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 20:01:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>16,814</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27050728</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoySauceSocks/pseuds/SoySauceSocks</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Beatrice is hollow. A husk of a person. She lost almost everything, leaving her with nothing and nobody. After living in pain for so long, she decides to start hunting down the ones that killed those she cared about.<br/>Ava is a criminal. Running with a small crew to supply money to one of New York City's most powerful crime bosses.</p>
<p>Basically a Punisher (Netflix) au. YOU WILL FIND SIMILAR SCENES FROM THE SHOW BUT ALSO SOME SCENES I CAME UP WITH.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sister Beatrice/Ava Silva, Sister Camila/Sister Lilith (Warrior Nun)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>67</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Don't cross me or I'll send my Roomba after you. There will be a knife taped to it.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Breaking News,” A voice crackled out into the air grabbing the attention of anyone around. “Ten civilians were killed in a murder-suicide at a bar tonight in Little Italy-” The TV was switched off before the news anchor could elaborate further.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“More?” A tall male stood staring down at the little box TV that was hooked up in the basement of a local restaurant in New York City. “This is getting out of hand,” He stated, exasperated.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, JC, turn it back on, I want to hear,” A voice called from the small kitchenette that was tucked away in the corner of the basement.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We have no reports of witnesses,” The reporter on the tiny screen shifted so the camera was facing the bar. “If anyone has any information on what happened here tonight, please contact the police,” The reporter said in a sincere voice, clearly concerned.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, isn’t that </span>
  <span>Giuseppe’s place?” The man named JC yelled over his shoulder. No response came. “Hey, Zori,” JC yelled again, this time, a head popped out of the kitchen.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, it is!” The girl named Zori exclaimed, eyes wide. “We were just there last night!” Zori fully came out of the kitchen and walked so she was parallel with JC. Just then, the door to the basement opened.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, guys,” A voice called out while they kicked off their shoes. “What’s with the pale faces?” They asked, only just now noticing the TV. “Holy shit,” Their face dropped too once they took in the crime scene.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” JC turned to the newcomer. “I know,” JC turned around and headed towards the small couch they had set up in the middle of the room, facing the TV. “Want a smoke?” He offered a joint as he hit the couch.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Nah, I’m good,” Zori waved him off and returned to the kitchenette.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ava?” He offered to the other girl.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No, I’m good too,” She also refused his offer.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re loss,” He shrugged them off and lit the joint, sucking in the smoke and letting it out in little puffs.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Can’t believe that,” Ava gestured to the TV.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, ten people in a murder-suicide?” JC questioned from the couch. “I mean, that’s crazy. How does one person do that?” He looked honestly confused as to how someone was able to pull that off.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe it was a fight between multiple people?” Ava turned to face the boy. “The news anchor didn’t really say anything else about the whole thing,” Ava gave an annoyed look at the TV.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well just pay attention to it,” The boy said, not noticing his brutality. Ava had a look of hurt on her face but quickly wiped it away.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I only just got here,” Ava argued back.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Just, stop talking,” JC put his fingers to the bridge of his nose. “I’m trying to listen, Ava,” JC sighed after staring down the girl. He then moved to the kitchenette to grab a beer. “Would it kill you to not talk for once?” He finalized the conversation with a rhetorical question, opened the beer, and took a long sip. Ava scoffed and just looked back to the TV, taking in the scene of broken glass and blood splatters. It had to be a murder-suicide, right?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>~</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah,” Beatrice hissed out in pain, stitching a bullet graze on her shoulder. She had taken off her gear to navigate her way to the injuries that had sported her body that night. She had gone into an Italian crime front and took out the bosses that were hosting a poker night. Of course, it wasn’t unprovoked. She had overheard one of them talking about their sex trafficking ring while she was at the bar one night.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>After years of being involuntarily incorporated in the various illegal enterprises in the US Marine Corps, she decided to take it upon herself to wipe some of the scum off of the Earth.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Once she had finished stitching up her injuries, she moved to turn on the TV, curious about what the news would be after her little… scuffle. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It seems as if a fight broke out over a game of poker, ending fatally for all,” Ah, that’s good. The general public is still oblivious about what had happened.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s been three years since she had faked her death and two months since she returned to hunting down criminals. She was safe from any list of suspects for the time being, at least until someone catches her on a camera, which she would have to be extra careful about. At least she would have to be if she wanted to not have the feds trying to catch her 24/7. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It would be a long night, so Beatrice limped her way to the couch in the abandoned building that she had been inhabiting for the last month. After a while, she decided that her apartment wasn’t safe enough. She let out a low groan as she bent over and hit the couch. It would be an understatement if she had said she was used to the pain, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. She still donned her blood-soaked under clothes but could care less.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The building she was staying in was old, run-down, and very dusty. Broken glass was everywhere, corresponding with parts of the building that had crumbled over the years. A demolition team wasn’t set to take it down for another year or so, so Beatrice had time before she had to vacate the building. It was like an old power plant, pipes and railing all around the building, although, one location where Beatrice stayed in the most lacked them. Tattered boxes filled up empty places, along with columns that stretched to the ceiling. A plain wall appeared to be the area Beatrice used the most for storage, displaying all of the weapons she obtained through the years. She had set up an area not far from the wall near a little kitchen for sleeping, patching herself up, and eating. It was simply an aged couch she had cleaned off and a table with maps and news articles were strewn about. The wall behind the couch was full of news articles and excerpts she had found, using them for her theories.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What you are about to see is very disturbing,” The news anchor’s voice spoke out again. “If there are any children, or if you’re easily disturbed, please turn off the TV now,” The anchor warned. Soon, a video popped up on the screen, most likely from a security camera in a corner. It showed a man in hand to hand combat with someone, yet they were covered by the camera angle, before being thrown out a window, but the video stopped before it could show Beatrice emptying a round into his head. Beatrice let out a pained noise as she remembered where a piece of broken glass got her in the arm. She was glad she decided to wear a hood and her current chainmail mask to cover her profile, even though it seemed like she avoided all of the cameras for now.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>After watching the news for that night, Beatrice decided to lay down and try and get some sleep. Ten minutes had passed before she was finally drifting off to that unconscious state, still wary as to having a handgun nearby.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hey, baby,” A voice brought her out of her sleep. “It’s time to wake up,” The sweet, gentle voice called out once more. She moved a hand to get a sense of where she was. Her hand was met with a soft cloth. A giggle broke into the somber silence. “Come on, sleepyhead!” The voice called out again. Bright white bedsheets engulfed Beatrice’s eyes. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She turned her head towards where she heard the giggle and was met with her girlfriend. Teresa. A warmth spread through her chest. She wasn’t at war anymore. She wasn’t surrounded by her squadmates, keeping an eye on the horizon for any possible threat.  She wasn’t freezing on the cold desert ground, covered in blood, sweat, and grime. She was in her house, with her girlfriend. She was home.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“What time is it?” Beatrice’s hoarse voice asked once she was able to catch her bearings, her British accent still prominent, despite living in America for a long time.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Well,” Teresa dropped onto the bed and wrapped her arms around Beatrice’s waist. “Since you’re home now, I decided you could sleep in a little,” Teresa said, shamefully. “It’s 10 AM,” She concluded, peppering small kisses on Beatrice’s face as a way to distract her from the time.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Did you at least make me breakfast?” Beatrice asked her, raising a playful eyebrow. That caused another giggle to erupt from Beatrice’s girlfriend.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yes,” Teresa dragged a finger up Beatrice’s stomach, stopping at her lips and kissing her. It was slow, yet passionate. “Let’s go eat,” Teresa breathed against Beatrice’s lips with a smirk.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yes ma’am,” Beatrice said, pulling off her covers and acknowledging the clothes strewn about the room. Yet, she still had her sleep clothes on.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>A small whimper caught her attention, drawing her gaze from the shirt at her feet to the door. Teresa stood there, held by a masked man, with a gun pointed to her head.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“NO!” Before she could even pronounce the word, blood splattered across the room and onto her face. The once clean and pristine white bedsheets now had splotches of red.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>When Beatrice finally registered what had happened, the man had already vacated the house.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“No, baby no,” Beatrice had practically crawled to Teresa’s limp body, not caring about the pool of blood soaking into their floor. Beatrice picked up the limp body, cradling it against her chest. “Baby,” Teresa’s once lively eyes had lost the shine in them, her lips cold and drained of color. “No, no, no, please,” sobs racked her body, shaking Teresa with her.  “Baby, please,” The blood on Beatrice’s face was being smudged by the tears streaming down her face. Tears splashed against the cheeks of the lifeless face, wetting her face. Blood continued to seep into Beatrice’s clothes. “Why?” It first came out as a small whimper. “Why!?” Her voice rose.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Beatrice reached down and took the hand of Teresa, bringing it to her mouth and kissing it. She then took off the engagement ring that was wrapped around Teresa’s ring finger. “I’m so sorry baby,” The tears continued to wet both their faces.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I WILL FIND YOU, AND I WILL FUCKING KILL YOU!” Beatrice yelled out into the now empty house. Her promise not finding any ears to descend upon. “I’ll fucking kill you!” She choked out, her body shaking with sobs once more.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Beatrice shot up with a start, shaking. Every night. Every night she had to relive that morning. Grabbing the nearest item, she chucked an empty beer bottle across the abandoned building, yelling out in frustration. She had yet to kill the ones responsible for </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span> death.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>~</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re doing this,” JC said, leaning over a table with a map on it. Zori stood across from him, also leaning over the table. Ava sat in a chair to her left with her arms crossed, another man was sitting across the table peering down at the table named Randall. Finally, standing next to Zori was a tall woman named Chanel. They were all a part of a crime gang, although, they were a part of the lower levels, doing significant robberies when the chance arose. “Ava, I want you coming in right here,” JC pointed to the left corner of the jewelry store. They were planning on a jewelry heist that would get them all of their essentials, and some extra cash to use for parties.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“To do what?” Ava asked with a little more snark than needed. She was getting tired of this life. She used to love it, the feeling of it. The adrenaline shooting through all of her veins, elevating her heart rate. Now, she just felt bad about it. She hadn’t felt that rush for a while, so now it felt like she was being dishonest and rude to the poor employees. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re going to release the smoke,” JC explained, looking at Ava. “Just roll it in there, make sure you get enough to cover the cameras,” Ava rolled her eyes. Great. “You’re also going to be the lookout. Make sure no one is reaching for any alarms,” JC elaborated further. “Randall, you’re going to be our intimidator,” JC elaborated further into their plan. “I don’t care what you do, just threaten everyone, make sure you’re also grabbing the jewelry too,” JC shifted his eyes to Zori. “Zori, you’re going to be breaking the cases,” Zori smiled, she always liked breaking things. “Chanel, you’re the one who’s going to be taking the jewelry,” Chanel nodded. “I’ll be coming in through the back taking out the security,” JC finalized. “Any questions?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Who’s driving?” Randall asked genuinely.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I will,” JC answered simply. The five stood in silence for a couple of beats until JC spoke up. “That all?” Everyone responded with curt nods. “Good, do anything you need to do to prepare,” JC gave them all serious looks. “2 days people, 2 days, dismissed,” Ava rolled her eyes, absolutely despising it when JC said ‘dismissed’ like he was the big crime boss. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Ava rose from her seat and left the building. She really didn’t want to be a part of the group anymore, and she didn’t know why. They were a force to be reckoned with, of course, in terms of petty crimes. They did a range of things, from pickpocketing to robbery. It depended on the day and the openings. Recently, while out doing his day job, Randall came across the jewelry store with out of date security cameras, most likely used to intimidate potential thieves.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Ava sighed as she took a step out into the cool, crisp autumn air. Her feet crunched on a fallen dried up newspaper, alerting the cat that stood guard of a dumpster. She pulled out her phone and earbuds to begin listening to music. Popping in her earbuds, music flowed through her mind, easing away any thoughts and anxieties she had for the moment. Ava walked out of the alley she was in and headed down the street to who knows where. That was until a beautiful woman walking towards her caught her eye and stopped her in her tracks. She had short raven black hair that was tied up into a tight bun, military-like, and defined features that made her look like a goddess. She donned </span>
  <span>a black work jacket with two chest pockets and buttons in the middle, casual dark blue jeans, a black duffle bag at her side, and black combat boots. Oh, so she probably was military. Her eyes were a hazel color, yet they were dark. Like she had been through hell and back or had seen all of the fucked up shit life had to offer. The beautiful girl walked right past her, not even sparing her a single glance with those eyes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>~</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Beatrice stepped into a small diner on the side of the road, deciding to grab something to eat before moving on with what she needed to do. When she opened the door, the smell of coffee, eggs, and grease swarmed her senses. Red booths lined the walls with the small run-down, yet charming, tables. Beatrice examined the vacant tables before moving towards one of the corner tables.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What can I get you, sweetie?” The waitress asked her when she approached the table, handing her a menu.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh,” Beatrice clicked her tongue while looking over the menu. “Three scrambled eggs, cup of coffee, and two pancakes please,” Beatrice offered the waitress a smile as she handed the menu back to her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh? British accent? Right away, sweetheart,” The waitress winked while turning back, shouting the order for the cooks in the back. Beatrice turned her head and looked out the window, with no fall colors showing due to the lack of trees.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Here, you are sweetheart,” Beatrice turned her head back towards the waitress as she poured the cup of coffee in front of her. “Cream and sugar are right there,” The waitress gestured towards the little collection of condiments next to Beatrice. “You’re eggs and pancakes should be out soon,”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Beatrice paused for a second, looking at the waitress’s nametag. “Deborah, thank you, Deborah,” Deborah simply offered her a smile while returning to refilling others coffees. Beatrice sat back and relaxed into the seat, sipping at the scalding coffee.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Here you are,” The eggs and pancakes were placed in front of Beatrice. “Can I get you anything else?” The waitress asked.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No, thank you,” Beatrice offered a quick smile before digging into the food. Everything was calm as Beatrice was eating, she offered quick glances around and outside the window like she was looking for threats. Old habits die hard. A man dressed in dark clothes with his hood pulled over the hat he had on his head entered the diner. Beatrice could see his eyes tensely darting around the diner, probably nervous, and his hand fidgeting in his pocket.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Empty the cash register now,” He pulled a small revolver out of his pocket, pointing it at the person behind the cash register. A few yells escaped the mouths of the bystanders who were seated around the diner.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Great,” Beatrice muttered under her breath. “A diner, seriously?” She asked herself quietly, eyeing the robber. She decided to stay seated until she was sure the man was going to shoo, not really in the mood for a fight right now. Besides, she had a long day ahead of her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I said,” The man raised his voice. “Register. Now.” He gestured with his gun towards the cash register. He was a scrawny man, most likely needing money for drugs. That meant he was already pretty weak due to his build, and he was probably going through withdrawals. Beatrice could most likely take him down in a minute or less, but she really didn’t want to go out of her way to fight more today. “I will shoot!” The man yelled, pushing the gun into the head of the employee.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ok, ok!” The employee yelled desperately, moving slowly to the register to show he wasn’t a threat to the robber. He opened the cash register and began to shovel out the money, shoving it into the bag that was thrown at him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Faster!” The robber once more pressed the gun into his head, threatening the employee. It was not hard to see that both men were physically shaking through the whole ordeal. That just gave Beatrice more confidence in her notion that the man was going through withdrawals and needed money for drugs. Once the cash register was empty, the robber decided to test his luck and began to go around the diner taking phones and wallets from the people trying to enjoy a nice meal.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Phone, wallet, and any jewelry you have on you,” The robber now trained his gun on Beatrice. She looked up from her plate and eyed down the man with a stern expression. He was definitely going through withdrawal because he was shaking more than he was before and his pupils were dilated. Being closer to the gun, she was able to depict it as a Smith &amp; Wesson Model 19. Fed up with the whole ordeal, Beatrice just looked back down at the table and picked up her coffee that was now cold.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey Deborah,” Beatrice called out towards the huddle of employees. “Can I get a refill?” She asked, raising her cup to show what she meant.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you fucking crazy, you bitch?” The gun was now pressed to her temple. “I said phone, wallet, and jewelry,” Spit was also now getting on her face. Out of frustration, Beatrice quickly disarmed the man in an instant and threw the gun across the diner. When the man turned to see where his gun went, Beatrice grabbed his right arm, shoved it against his back, and slammed him onto the table.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Why don’t you go on and get out of here before anything else can happen,” Beatrice threatened him in a whisper, leaning over him so she was right behind his ear.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Get off me you crazy bitch!” The man yelled trying to squirm out of her grasp. When Beatrice let him go, he tried to make a run for the exit with the bag but was quickly stopped by Beatrice grabbing his hood.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Leave the bag,” Beatrice said calmly, holding on to him tightly. She finally let him go when he dropped the bag. After he left, Beatrice followed him out of the exit but heading in a different direction. “That was fun,” She muttered under her breath and continued walking down the street, running a hand through her hair.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>~</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s a pretty girl like you buying stuff like this?” A man sneered, approaching Ava. Two muscular men flanked his side, most likely muscle in case things got out of hand. As a necessary precaution, she had to get the M83 smoke grenades and gas masks from an outside source so her money transactions couldn’t be tracked. She hated doing this, especially since most of the sellers were misogynistic criminal men.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Buying for a friend, Ava simply answered, giving him a sarcastic smile. The man scoffed but then moved back to where he had stored the grenades.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Eh, I don’t care what you need it for, as long as you pay,” He slapped one of the boxes set up. “One thousand. Pay up,” The man deadpanned, looking expectantly at the woman in front of him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll pay fifty percent up front and fifty percent after I use them,” Ava bargained. “Just a precaution in case they don’t work,” Ava smiled sweetly at the man.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I can assure you,” The man bared his teeth. “They work,” His gaze was unfaltering. “One thousand, take it or leave it,” He finalized, crossing his arms.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmm,” Ava approached the man, raising her empty hands in a surrendering way when the two guards shifted. “May I?” She asked, gesturing towards the grenades in the box.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Be my guest,” The man said, with a bite behind his words. Ava pulled one out, pulled the pin, and threw it behind her head. “Hey!” The man immediately moved towards Ava, but one of her hands sticking out as a way to motion for him to stop made him standstill. After a second, a loud pop came from the grenade and white smoke was coming out of the grenade. Ava then grabbed one of the gas masks, put it one, and stood in the smoke, breathing deeply.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“One thousand it is,” Ava smiled as she took off the gas mask. She grabbed the briefcase containing the needed money that had been set down. “There you are, kind sir,” Ava handed him the briefcase and waited for him to inspect it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright,” He gestured with his hands, and the two men standing off to the side immediately went into action, grabbing the boxes that contained the merchandise and placing them inside the trunk of Ava’s car. “Hope you have fun,” He winked at her before she stepped into the driver’s seat and drove off.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Fair warning, it is violent.<br/>I based the little flashback off of an episode in season 1 of the show, so just bear with me.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Fifty thousand,” A man in a suit said, gesturing towards the wooden boxes that had been set up behind him. Six men surrounded him, two were also in suits beside him, yet they looked scrawny, so they were most likely his ‘coworkers’. Three other men, who were big and muscular and wielded various types of guns, stood guard, eyeing Beatrice wearily.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Twenty-five thousand,” Beatrice bargained.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fifty. Thousand.” The man’s position did not fluctuate.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Thirty-five,” Beatrice tried again.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fifty. Thousand.” The man still didn’t budge.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Forty,” Beatrice didn’t have the time for this.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I said, fifty. Thousand.” The man stepped closer to Beatrice, not backing down. Beatrice just let out a sigh. She was never actually planning on paying, she just wanted to see if the man would bargain.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re really forcing my hand here,” Beatrice sighed out, rubbing her head.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you have the money, or not?” The man took another step forward, clearly trying to intimidate Beatrice.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Beatrice was nodding her head. “I have the money,” She took a step backward, not showing her back to the men. She leaned down to the large briefcase she brought with her, and opened it up, shielding its contents from the eyes of the sellers. She looked up at all of the people surrounding her. Three were right in front of her, about ten feet away. The other three were scattered, all about nine feet from her. Suddenly, three gunshots rang into the air, making everyone flinch. The three guards dropped like flies. Bullet holes were now visible on the side of the briefcase that was facing towards the sellers.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What the fuck is going on!?” A gun was now in the grips of the man standing in the middle. Beatrice stood up, revealing a Kimber Warrior handgun with smoke coming from the barrel.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I lied,” Beatrice said simply, before gunning down the three other men in abrupt movements. “Sorry, boys,” Beatrice said, sounding a bit tired, as she stepped over the bodies heading towards the boxes. Looking down, she saw an assortment of handguns, submachine guns, and rifles. “Good deal,” Beatrice said finally, before loading the guns on to the truck bed, before covering it with a tarp.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When she got back to her base of operations, she hauled the newly acquired weapons into the room with the displays and got to work on setting up the guns. She also sorted the ammo that had luckily been in the same boxes of the guns for easy access. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh,” Beatrice pried open the top of one of the boxes. “No way,” She breathed out, smiling. Three rows of a dozen or so Shurikens were inside the box. Shurikens were a must-have for Beatrice. Not only were they good for distracting her enemies, but they also provided lethal hits. Another box down, she revealed four rows of fifteen throwing knives. She had certainly hit the jackpot this time.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, that was fun,” Beatrice grumbled out, eyes following the blood running down the boxes. She then returned to the little room with the newspapers. A sigh escaped her lips as she sat down on the couch, still sore from the previous day. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>~</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You guys ready?” JC said in the back of the van. Everyone had dark clothes on, yet they weren’t professional enough to have a lot of gear. They wore ski masks, hoodies, and black cargo pants, the ski masks were propped on their heads like beanies.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Let’s do this,” Randall said, he had the sawed-off double-barrel shotgun for intimidation purposes. JC went out first, headed down the alley towards the back of the store, the rest followed. Gas masks were hooked to each of their pants, hanging off of the side for easy access. “I’m in position,” The Ava’s earpiece crackled.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright,” Zori said as they all lined up outside the front entrance. Everyone pulled their ski masks and put on the gas masks. “Go!” Ava entered first, rolling the smoke grenades into the store, filling the store up with smoke.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Everyone down!” Randall yelled as Chanel shot a round into the ceiling with her Beretta 92FS. Screams and whimpers of fear rang into the air, sorrowing Ava’s mood. She hated this part of the job. Making people fear for their lives. Cry out for the loved ones they may never see again. Regret the last words they said to the people they loved. Seeing their lives flash before their eyes. Possibly developing trauma. Ava decided then and there, when she saw the absolute terror in a child’s eyes through the protective plastic in her gas mask, that this was her last job. “If I see anyone call the cops are hit a button, I will shoot!” Randall called out, shaking Ava from her daze.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Start breaking the display cases and fill up your bags!” JC came in through the back of the store, scanning the room. “Halo and I will keep watch!” They developed call signs for each other, knowing if real names were called out, it was a possible security break. Ava had gained the callsign ‘Halo’ since she came from a religious orphanage. Ava scanned the room, looking for phones as JC hopped up on a counter and began pacing. Zori, Chanel, and Randall were moving through the store, breaking the display cases, and shoving the jewelry into bags. Suddenly, a ringing sound pulsed into the air, most likely used for alerting the police of a robbery. “Go! Go! Go!” JC yelled, jumping off the counter, sprinting towards the exit closest to the van. Everyone else followed suit through the dying out smoke.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ava,” JC called out from behind the wheel. “What the actual </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span> was that!?” He yelled, glaring her down from the rear-view mirror.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry JC, I can’t see the entire store through smoke,” Ava bit back with sarcasm.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Calm down guys,” Chanel said, looking through the bags, trying to stay sturdy in the swaying car. “We got enough,” Police cars zipped by them in the direction of the store.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ava,” JC was still glaring her down in the mirror. “When we get back, we’re having a private discussion.” He said sternly.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes sir,” She mocked him, earning herself another glare.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When they got back to the small restaurant they were staying in, they unloaded the jewelry into the basement. Zori immediately sat down and began calling her contacts to see if anyone was open to set them up to sell on the black market. Chanel went to the bathroom to get cleaned up, as she had accidentally cut her left hand on a piece of glass. Randall took the guns they used and took them to the little room they used for storage and cleaning. Ava was instantly yanked by JC and brought outside to talk.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Tell me what you did wrong back there,” JC said sternly.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I wasn’t able to see everyone through not only my thick mask but also the smoke,” Ava said back with venom dripping off of her words.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You could have cost us the job!” JC yelled, entirely frustrated.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“But I didn’t!” Ava yelled back. “We got everything we needed,” Ava argued.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You could have jeopardized us all!” JC was not lowering his voice.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Once again, you try and watch everyone’s movements through the smoke!” Ava yelled back, arguing like a kid with their parents.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ava,” JC was now eerily calm. “You need to start pulling your weight, or else there will be consequences,”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re not the boss, JC!” Ava was now entirely frustrated. “You think you’re some type of leader, but you’re not,” Ava was now in his face. “You know what?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m out,” Ava stepped back. “I’m leaving,” JC was taken aback. “If I’m not pulling my weight, I’ll just leave. I don’t even like it anymore,” Ava said.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait, no, Ava,” JC reached for her wrist, which she yanked out of his grasp as soon as he touched her. “I didn’t mean it like that,” He pleaded.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, well you might as well have,” Ava crossed her arms over her chest. “Just give me my cut, and you’ll never see me again,” The venom still hadn’t left her voice, but she had calmed down a bit.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ava,” JC begged. “You know you can’t, the boss will be mad”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll figure it out,” Ava turned away from his gaze. “But I’m done, I can’t take this anymore,” She said before walking back to the basement.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When JC entered about six minutes after her, she was already mostly packed, taking the things she had bought for their little hideout.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll take my part of the cut now,” Ava walked up to him, leveling her eyes with his. He just sighed and moved to the little safe they had tucked away in the armory. He then pulled out a sizable amount of cash and handed it to Ava.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Be careful,” He moved the money away before Ava could grab it. “He will find you,” He said before letting Ava take the cash.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I won’t talk then,” Ava said simply before leaving the building. When she had stepped out, it felt like she had just taken the first breath after being underwater for a long time. She was free. Well, that was until the boss found out she ditched. Changes were incumbent if she wanted to get away unscathed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>~</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Gunpowder, smoke, and sand stung Beatrice’s eyes, throat, and lungs, yet she paid no attention to it.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Gunfire, explosions, and yelling surrounded her, trapping her in the location she was in. It was night time, yet the fire and explosions kept certain places visible to everyone, and others were completely covered in shadows. She was leaning against a pillar, searching with her eyes and ears for the insurgents that had swarmed the area. Hearing one to her right, Beatrice quickly spun to the side, searched the night for her target, seeing him walking across a rocky hill before releasing a burst of gunfire into the insurgent. Instantaneously afterward, an explosion not far off to her left made her dive back behind the pillar for cover and cover her ears, trying to stop the ringing in them. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Knowing she had to move after revealing her location to anyone who was in range of the gunshots, she reloaded before spinning back around the pillar, checking both to the right and left of the pillar where she had shot the insurgent, before turning around and heading straight into the dark corridors. It was like a maze, the building she was in, various hallways were at the end of each corridor, offering different routes to where she needed to get to. When she turned a corner, gunfire pierced the wall next to her as she ducked back behind it. When the bullets stopped, and the sound of reloading reached her ears, Beatrice spun back around the corner, firing off bursts into the chests and faces of the insurgents in front of her.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Blood on her face was already drying, painting her face a dark color of red. She looked eerily like a ghost, no expanse of the skin on her face was clean, sand, dirt, and blood covered every inch of it. If you looked at it from the right angle, it almost looked as if the grit formed a skull on her face. As she continued past the fallen insurgents, a man from where Beatrice came from unloaded a round into the wall right next to her head, igniting her reflexes. She quickly spun around, squatted down to her knees, and released two or three bullets into his head. When she confirmed that he was dead and twisted back around to move past another corner, a man swung at her head with a machete. She raised her rifle, meeting the machete in mid-air before drawing back and releasing a burst into the insurgent’s stomach. Stepping over the body, Beatrice continued around the corner. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Someone grabbed her gun, tugging it down. When she looked up, she looked straight into the eyes of another insurgent. She saw fear, violence, and rage behind his eyes. She rammed the man into a wall, trying to get her gun free of his grasp, but his grip held. She then pulled a handgun from her holster and fired off a round into his stomach. When she was about to fire another round into him, more insurgents came running into the hallway. In a split-second decision, she grabbed the man who still grasped her rifle, dragged him in front of her, and let his back take the bullets. Raising her right arm, she unloaded the last of the clip in her handgun into the three men that were firing into the back of the insurgent in front of her.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Once all of their bodies dropped to the floor, she dropped the man she was using as a shield and checked the ammo in her pistol and rifle. Her pistol still had two shots while she was out of rifle ammo. Abruptly, another insurgent came running in, startling the both of them. She reacted quicker than he did, though, as she grabbed him by the clothes around his collarbone and slammed him into a wall. Without breaking a sweat, she fired off two shots into the man’s head, yelling in frustration as she did. Great, that was her last two bullets.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Resorting to her last weapon, she drew a short black sword from its sheath on her back. Finally being able to get out of the room, Beatrice moved as slowly as possible, making sure no one would catch her off guard. Hearing footsteps running towards her from where she previously was, she turned around to meet another insurgent. Right before she could reach him, one round from his AKMS landed in her shoulder. Despite the bullet that had gone clean through her shoulder, the momentum from her charge at the opposing combatant enabled her to run her sword through his abdomen, coming out the other side. Blood dripped from her mouth as both of their bodies dropped to the ground. Her vision blurred as she struggled on the ground, reaching for the bullet wound while she grunted and groaned in pain over and over again. She shifted nonstop, holding pressure to the bullet wound, trying to catch her bearings. Overall exhaustion and pain kept Beatrice on the ground for another minute before she forced herself to get up, grabbing the rifle the insurgent had dropped on her way. Remembering the sword still currently embedded in the stomach of an unlucky soldier, she attempted to jerk it from his body, but it still stayed. Not having enough energy to deal with it properly, she held his body down with a foot and jerked it once more, tugging it free and sheathing it.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Hearing voices in the distance drawing closer to her, she stumbled her way to a wall to hide. Once they were close enough, she stepped out in front of them and gunned them down with the rifle she picked up, yelling something unintelligible as she did. The ammo drained quickly once more, leaving her only with her sword once again. Before she could walk any further, four more men ran right past her, stopping as they noticed her. Ignoring the pain in her shoulder, she swiftly whipped the sword out of its sheath and at the closest man, cutting him right in the neck. That metallic smell swarmed her nose as even more blood sprayed onto her face from the neck of the man. Remembering the other men, she was able to barely dodge a knife that had been swiped at her face.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“COME ON!” Beatrice yelled at the man, dodging his attacks before grabbing his shoulder and ramming her sword through his chest. When she pulled the sword back out, a bullet shot it out of her hand. Simultaneously, Beatrice ducked behind another pillar before drawing out the serrated combat knife each marine was outfitted with. “Shit,” Beatrice said, not caring if they could hear her. Once she knew they were about to turn the corner on her, she darted to the left and stabbed the man there in the stomach and grabbed his jacket. When she pulled the knife out, she stabbed it repeatedly into his neck. After being carried away, she remembered that there was still one man still alive. She hurriedly dropped the man in her grasp before trying to tackle the other man. Before either of them could reach each other, the sound of a mortar whistling through the air caused both of them to dive for the ground. Luckily, the mortar didn’t land close enough to significantly affect either one of them, except for making their ears ring and their bodies to shake. Both of them rapidly got to their feet, circling each other. The man moved first, going for an overhead strike, giving Beatrice the opening to tackle him into a wall, which she took. Having dropped the knife in her dive to the ground, Beatrice resorted to slamming his head against the wall over and over again.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Long after the man had died, Beatrice had finally stopped slamming his head against the wall. Sweat or tear tracks, she really couldn’t discern which, made little trails down the make-shift skull that had been painted onto her face by dirt and blood. Stepping back from the mangled body, breathing heavily, Beatrice realized that she was finally alone with no more threats coming. One of her eyes was now bloodshot due to one of the vessels popping in it. The bullet that had pierced her shoulder most likely ripped a hole into her airway as blood was now filling up her lungs and throat, for when she finally allowed herself to rest a second, she was coughing up clots of blood. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Recognizing that she needed to head back to the FOB her squad had set up, Beatrice trekked her way through the rest of the building. When she made it out of the building, she noticed that the person she saw in the distance had camo clothing on, once she was close enough, she waved her good arm at him, only enough to get his attention, though. Seeing the injuries on her body and the lack of weapons strapped to her, he escorted her back to friendly lines before another person took over the escort, bringing her to the medical tent. The trembling in her body never stopped as she kept on coughing up blood and the steady stream from her shoulder was not slowing.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Hazel brown eyes pierced back at Beatrice as she stared into a cracked mirror from across the old abandoned building. The woman she saw staring back at her looked unfamiliar. Empty. Death wasn’t something foreign to Beatrice, either by her hand, or the death of someone she cared about. Her life was tough, she wouldn’t say otherwise. No affection came to her by her parents, as she spent her childhood in a boarding school, only to then join the USMC. Her parents hadn’t died when she was young, but the amount of interaction between her and them was relatively similar to that if they had died.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>In the catholic boarding school she was enrolled in, she opted out of making friends, spending her time studying or training in various martial arts. Life was lonely, but if that’s what her parents wanted for her, she determined it must have been for the best. Time in the USMC was different. She formed bonds with her squadmates. They fought, laughed, and struggled to survive together. Afterward, she didn’t know why she ended up forming those bonds. Only three of them had survived their time serving.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She had nothing left. Her friends were all spread about NYC, she could find them, but what for? Teresa, her fiance, was murdered, and she still had yet to find the culprits. All she could do was kill. Resort back to that primal instinct. That’s all she was able to do, so that’s all she did. Although, she prided herself on only killing those who deserved it. It was what kept her sane, knowing that the lives that she took were not innocent. Coming from a religious background, it seems a bit hypocritical. ‘Thou shalt not kill’ and whatnot.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Finally being able to drag her eyes away from the cracked mirror, Beatrice decided to get out of the old building. Approaching her newfound weapons display, she took down three items. Her Kimber Warrior pistol, a combat knife, and an extra clip of ammo. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Walking down the street of a bad neighborhood in the Bronx, an area most tourists avoid, Beatrice entered a bar. She was unable to tell if she just wanted to down some alcohol or scope out the place for criminals. It was an often technique Beatrice used. Going to bars, ordering a beer, and just watching and listening. It proved to work, as many criminals are not very quiet.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll just have a beer, whichever is fine,” Beatrice said to the bartender who approached her when she set her jacket on the chair and her hat on the counter. He nodded and walked down to the refrigerator and grabbed one out. Beatrice grabbed one of the bar nuts provided, cracking it open and throwing the nut into her mouth. Despite it being only three in the afternoon, two men were not far from the corner Beatrice was in, obviously drunk as their words came out slurred and their arms were slung around each other.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Three men, though, were conversing very quietly and closed off. They were either talking about crime or sex. It was hard to tell, though, as Beatrice couldn’t see the look on their faces. She decided to keep a close eye on them. The rest of the bar was relatively empty. Only a few people were strewn about, but all of their conversations were loud enough to eavesdrop on.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>With that information, Beatrice decided to clandestinely keep her eye on the three men quietly conversing with one another.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, Tony,” Beatrice called out to the bartender when he walked by her. He stopped and turned around.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s up?” He asked, leaning over the counter, resting on his elbows.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Those three men,” She gestured with her head. “What are they talking about?” She said, not taking her eyes off of them. He looked back at them. When he turned back to her, he raised an eyebrow at her, as if signaling something. She slid him twenty dollars in response.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll go check,” He said, moving back and walking to the three men, asking if they wanted anything else to drink. “Something about someone named Adriel and I think a JC’s team. Said something about Adriel getting mad that one of them left,” Tony said trying to recall the conversation.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you,” She gave him a polite nod, before returning to sipping on her beer.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>After about thirty minutes, she observed one of the men paying and the other two leaving the bar. When the other two were outside, facing away from the bar, Beatrice set a thirty dollar bill down, more for the scene she was about to make rather than the beer, and then got up from her seat and walked over to the man.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, you know Adriel, right?” She decided to go for a friendly approach first.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No, I don’t know who that is,” The man bit at her, turning to move to the exit. Beatrice let out a sigh, grasping his left arm and twisting it around his back.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Just say when,” Beatrice said, unnervingly calm.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What the hell, you bitch!?” The man shouted, wrestling against her grip.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Just tell me what you know about Adriel,” Beatrice stated calmly once more, tightening her hold.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ok, ok,” The man begged. “He’s the crime boss, he runs a lot of things, drugs, guns, sex rings, you name it,” His voice was hushed and fast, but Beatrice was close enough to hear. “He’s got a lot of people working under him. Most of the robberies you see going on today, the money goes to him,” Beatrice tightened her hold a little more. “God lady, he uh, you seen that recent jewelry heist, right?” He asked her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What of it?” She gave in to his little question.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That was JC’s crew. He said that one of their members dipped after that,” He elaborated further. “Adriel don’t like it when someone leaves his gang,” The guy concluded.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“See, that wasn’t so hard, right?” Beatrice hesitantly let go of his arm. As soon as he was free, he dashed the door, taking his friends away from the bar with him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Beatrice has heard talk of a man named Adriel, nothing more. If he is who they say he is, Beatrice just found herself a new lead. There was a possibility, and a big one if what the man said was right, that Adriel was connected to whoever sent that assassin to kill Teresa. Or he was the person who sent the assassin. With her newfound discovery, Beatrice walked back to where she was sitting, grabbed her jacket and hat, and pointed to the money on the counter for Tony, mouthing a sorry to him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Adriel. Right. Beatrice set off down the street, pulling her hat down, trying to blend in.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Beatrice should seriously have a pet Tiger in the show. Simon, hire me, I'm a genius.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>If I don't finish this fic, blame the american education system</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Spectacular. Fantastic. Great, just great. Ava had now got herself on Adriel’s hitlist, with no one and nowhere to go. She couldn’t go back to her apartment, although she had gotten most of what she needed stuffed into travel bags. Adriel’s little henchmen were already probably ripping her apartment up. If there was one thing Ava knew about the criminal world, it was that word traveled scarily fast.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck,” Ava gasped out, running her hands through her hair. She hated the feeling of not knowing what’s next. Those were her only friends. At least she had enough money to last her for a while. If only she had a place to stay. It’s not like she could go back to that stupid orphanage with Diego. Wait. Diego. She could call Diego and see if he had a place for her to crash until she got back onto her feet.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Digging into the backpack she had on her, she pulled out her phone and dialed his number, hoping it hadn’t changed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, Diego,” Ava said into the phone once he picked up. “I uh,” She paused, not knowing what to say. “Do you think I could crash at your place for a bit?” She asked. “Just for a bit! At least until I can figure some stuff out, I’ll even pay!” She hastily added before he could answer. “Thank you so much,” She said once he agreed. “Seriously, you don’t know how much this means to me,” Sincerity was evident in her voice.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>With a newfound area to stay, Ava changed direction, heading towards Diego’s apartment, careful to look for people tailing her. She was in a relatively safe neighborhood, so she felt a little better knowing that if one of Adriel’s men were tailing her, they’d have to wait until no curious eyes could find them. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Just as Ava was about to knock on the door, it flung open, revealing a man, teen really, smiling brightly at Ava.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ava! What’s up!” The question turned out more like a greeting.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, Diego!” Ava responded, instantly encompassing him in a tight hug. He chuckled at that.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I missed you too,” He said, returning the hug. “So, what’d you get yourself into this time?” He asked, raising a fond eyebrow at the woman in front of him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Just uh, maybe being hunted by the goons of Adriel,” Ava said hastily, as she sheepishly rubbed at the back of her neck. Diego responded by rubbing his hand on his forehead.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ok, ok, come in,” He ushered her in. She looked around the place. It was small, yet cozy. Plants decorated tables, making the apartment shine green. The kitchen was immediate to the left, the living room right across from it. A hallway stretched on the corresponding wall of the door, seemingly where the bedrooms and bathrooms were. “Make yourself comfortable,” Diego said, closing the door. “Can I get you anything to eat? Drink?” He asked, moving to the kitchen, grabbing himself a water bottle.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, no. I’m fine, thank you,” Ava politely rejected the offer. “Really though Diego. Thank you,” Ava said once more.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, no,” Diego walked up to her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Thank you for taking care of me all of those years in the orphanage,” He said candidly.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t lie,” Ava chuckled. “You were the one taking care of me,” Ava admitted, earning a crooked smile from the younger boy. “How have you been?” Ava asked. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in ten years!” She exclaimed, reminiscing about their time in the orphanage.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve been good,” He said, walking over to the couch and sitting down. “I mean, I got a nice apartment, a job, and a girlfriend,” He said nonchalantly, taking a swig from his water bottle.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What!?” Ava all but jumped on him. “A girlfriend!?” She exclaimed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Why do you sound so surprised?” He laughed. “I’m not super awkward like you,” He said cheekily, receiving a slap on the shoulder in response. Diego pushed her away playfully.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ok, fine,” Ava rolled her eyes. “I may or may not be good at dating, we’ve already established that,” She sighed, adjusting herself so she was sitting correctly. “What’s she like?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, she’s nice, beautiful, and really, </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> smart,” Diego had a shine in his eyes as he described her. Ava would be lying if she said she wasn’t envious of the younger boy. “She works at the Department of Homeland Security-” Diego was cut off before he could describe her further.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What!?” Ava was internally, and well externally, panicking. “Does she know about me?” Ava asked impatiently.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No, no,” Diego said honestly. “I would never do that to you,” Diego said earnestly. “But that part of your life is over, right?” He asked, looking expectantly into her eyes. She shrunk under the disappointed look in his eyes when she hesitated.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah,” She finally said. “I’m done with that life,” She explained. “To be honest, I was starting to hate it, the looks on people’s eyes because </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> was threatening their lives,” She looked down at her hands, which were playing with the hem of her shirt. “I feel terrible for the stuff I did, especially since most of it went to Adriel,” Ava spat out his name like he was the most terrible poison in the world, which he probably was.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Good,” He said when Ava stopped talking. “I’m proud of you. It takes a lot to stop doing what you’ve been doing your whole life,” He grabbed her cheek and made her look at him. “Seriously, I’m proud of you.” Tears brimmed Ava’s eyes as she yanked him into a tight hug.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you,” She whispered out, barely discernible.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>~</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Saliva flew through the air, landing on the floor of the basement of a club in Little Italy. Beatrice had connections with a lot of business owners from past experiences. She often put that to use, using their empty rooms for various purposes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I asked you,” Beatrice stared straight into the eyes of one of Adriel’s men she found in an alley who was tied to a chair. “Who is JC?” Beatrice finalized, club music blaring above them. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Why should I tell you?” The man spat out, readjusting his jaw.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Because this goes one way or the other,” Beatrice said, standing in the same position. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Why don’t you cut me loose?” The man didn’t back down. “Let’s see what happens then,” He was now glaring at her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh wow,” Beatrice said in a hushed, deep voice now. “Look at you, you’re strong. You’re proud, you’re a part of a gang, right? You’re part of a brotherhood, I get that, I get it,” Beatrice said, still unmoving from her previous location. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Suck my dick,” The man smirked, not backing down.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” Beatrice said, clicking her tongue, before landing a punch right in his pelvic area. He immediately shot down, groaning in pain and covering the area with his body. Beatrice walked back to the wall across from him and leaned against it. “Still want to act tough now?” She asked, tilting her head and giving him a questioning look.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on,” He coughed, still recovering from the pain. “Why don’t we try this when I’m untied,” He smiled at her menacingly.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Beatrice let out a chuckle, amused at the man's antics. She got up off of the wall and unsheathed a combat knife. “Alright, you want to play, huh?” She also gave him a threatening smile. She moved right up to him and cut the duct tape that was keeping his arms bound. “We can play games then,” Beatrice said, stabbing the knife right in between his legs. “Come get it,” She backed away, gesturing with her hand to invite him towards her. He instantly pulled the knife from where it was lodged and stood up, running at Beatrice. Right before he reached her though, she grabbed the arm that was holding the knife and threw it past her, lifting her knee up to hit him in the stomach. The man doubled over in pain, landing on his hands and knees, grunting and grasping at his stomach. Beatrice kicked him in the back, causing him to sprawl out across the ground. When he reached for the knife again, she picked it up and reached down to grab him by the hand.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The man was powerless to resist her as she dragged him back to the chair where he just was. She then placed his hand on the chair and stabbed the knife through it. He immediately yelled out in pain, squirming to try and get the knife out. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You feel that?” She said darkly. “Easy now,” Her hands left the knife and grabbed him by the neck. “Who is JC and where can I find him?” She asked, getting in his face. When no answer came, and he only kept on trying to break her grasp with his free arm, she spoke up again. “This is your last chance,” She said, almost whispering it to him. “Whatever comes next is on you,” She glanced at the door, making sure no one was entering the basement they were in. “It's on you, you understand that?” Once again, no answer came. “One more time, where is he?” Beatrice released the chokehold and stood all the way up, staring down at the man. He was now gasping for breath, grabbing at his neck to try and rub the feeling away. “Who is JC, and where is he?” Beatrice watched him intently, making sure he didn’t go for the knife.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Kiss my ass,” He spit at her, out of breath and in pain. Growing frustrated, Beatrice grabbed his head and slammed it on the table. He grunted in pain once more, though no words came out of his mouth. Resorting back to the knife, she started to wiggle it back and forth fast, causing him to scream out.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You can stop this,” She said, still wiggling the knife. “Just tell me, where is he?” The man looked like he was about to throw up, before tapping on the table as if signaling a tap out.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ok, ok, I’ll tell you,” He sounded breathless, most likely due to the pain. “He’s a part of one of the lower-level groups. They do stuff like robberies. Last I heard, he was staying in an Italian restaurant called Antonio’s here in Little Italy. You didn’t hear this from me, alright?” He pleaded with her, much more scared of Adriel than her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” She pulled the knife out of his hand, eliciting another yell. “Sorry, though,” A pistol was pulled out of the back of her jeans. “I can’t have any loose ends,” She concluded before releasing a round into his head, watching his body go limp and drop to the floor. “Antonio’s huh?” She asked the now dead body. A sigh escaped her lips. She hated this part of her </span>
  <em>
    <span>hobby</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Having to deal with all of the dead bodies.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>~</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hi, I’m looking for a man named JC?” Beatrice approached the man behind the cashier.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry, don’t know anyone with that name,” He sighed, returning to sorting through the money.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No, it’s- it’s important,” She leaned over the counter, going into a hushed voice. “I have a job for him,” Beatrice gave him a wink.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Door to your left, goes down to the basement,” The employee's head gestured to the door. “That’s where you’ll most likely find him,” He concluded, moving back to count the money.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Beatrice said as she turned towards the door. All she had to do was go in, ask some questions, and leave. No need for guns, knives, or any type of violence. Approaching the door, she put her ear to the door, hearing the sound of voices behind it. Not wasting any time, Beatrice opened and closed the door as silently as possible, staying in the shadows of the stairwell. A collection of shoes were right next to the door. From the number of shoes, it appeared that four people were here now. Beatrice lurked down the stairs as quietly as possible, avoiding alerting the people down there. Before she could get all the way down, she heard voices coming from the right behind a wall, so she leaned against it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, what can we do?” A female voice spoke up.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Should we get another member?” A male voice asked another question.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We could,” Someone answered, male. “Or we could go back to the old days of just us four,” He said.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“But we’ve had Ava for so long, JC,” So JC was here. “We’ve basically grown used to having a fifth person,” Beatrice was debating on when she should make herself known and how. Going down as low as she could as the four continued speaking, she peeked her head out to get a good look at the people. They were all facing away from her, luckily. With that information, she descended the rest of the stairs, finally stepping into the basement.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The basement was insufficiently illuminated, leaving many corners covered in shadows. It also lacked furniture, only sporting a couch, a TV, and some tables strewn about the basement. It was small, definitely meant for planning and setting up, not for living.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Nice place you got here,” Beatrice finally decided to speak up. Everyone down there jumped at the voice of the newcomer. When they spun around to see who it was, Beatrice was leaning against a wall. “What do you do down here?” Beatrice looked around the place, examining the doors. “A lot of planning?” She asked, finally settling her eyes on the small group of people looking at her like she was a ghost.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Who are you?” One of the men finally spoke up.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That doesn’t matter,” Beatrice said, pushing herself up off of the wall. “What does matter is which one of you is JC?” She said, examining each of them carefully.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Why do you want to know?” The taller woman asked.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Got something to discuss,” Beatrice said, rubbing her hands together.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Honey, there's four of us and one of you,” The taller woman continued. “I don’t think you know who’s asking the questions here,” The taller woman crossed her arms.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I still like my chances,” Beatrice said, deciding to walk up to the group. “Again, which one of you is JC?” She asked, a rigid look on her face.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“There’s no one here named JC,” The shorter woman spoke up, yet her hand peculiarly stuck out in front of one of the men in a protective manner.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright,” Beatrice said, but immediately grabbed the man the shorter woman was protecting by the shirt and dragged him to the ground. Shouts erupted from the group still standing, and the other man grabbed Beatrice’s arm to try and pry her away from him. She responded by grabbing his hand and applying pressure in just the right spot to make him yell out in pain and landing a punch on his face, most likely breaking his nose.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey!” The taller woman rushed to their side. “Let him go!” She yelled. The man with the broken nose was now trying to stop the blood flow.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You guys brought this on yourselves,” Beatrice said. Didn’t she say no violence? Somehow her interactions always ended with pain. “I just need to talk to JC,” She said, not letting go of JC.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ok, ok!” The man on the ground yelled out. “I’ll talk,” He said, eyes glancing between everyone standing over him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“See,” Beatrice looked at all of the others. “No hard feelings,” Albeit, there was no kindness behind her words. Beatrice stood up and yanked JC up with her. “Let’s go talk, yeah?” Her voice was low, and she patted JC on the back. They walked into what seemed to be an armory.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you want?” He spat at her, venom clearly in his voice. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I heard you work for Adriel,” Beatrice gave him a questioning look, crossing her arms. “That true?” She asked.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” The venom was still clear in his voice.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you know where I can find him?” She asked, her face stern.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you mean ‘where can I find him’?” JC laughed out, yet no humor was evident in his laugh. “You don’t ‘find’ Adriel, he finds you,” He elaborated.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“All right,” Beatrice said, nodding at him. “What gets his attention?” She asked, trying a different approach. She got a confused look in response. “What can I do to get him to seek me out?” She asked, clarifying his confusion.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, you could kill a bunch of his people,” JC looked away in thought. “Yet that would most likely get you killed.” He concluded.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t know me,” She said darkly.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I guess if you really wanted to, you could find Ava Silva. Once you do, tell me, and I’ll relay the information to Adriel. He may want to meet you, maybe not,” He paused, thinking.” If I remember correctly, she was somehow important to him,” He concluded. Beatrice nodded. “Here’s an image,” JC reached into his back pocket, pulling out a wallet. He slipped a photo of the girl out of his wallet and handed it to Beatrice. Beatrice took it with a raised eyebrow. Without another word, she walked towards the wall lined with weapons and grabbed a gas mask, and leftover smoke grenades. “Hey! Put those back,”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Put what back?” She asked, raising the gear she took. Without waiting for JC to talk again, Beatrice left the room and soon the basement. Right, kill a bunch of criminals or find someone named Ava Silva. Both were difficult in their own sense. Beatrice picked up the duffle bag she left with one of the employees and stuffed the gear into it. When she left the restaurant, she put on her hood, looking both left and right before deciding to go left.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>~</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Ava sighed as she stared up at the ceiling. Sleep proved itself to be elusive as Ava remained in a dreamless state. In less than two days she lost everything. Her apartment, her friends, and her ‘job’. All she had left was the items she was able to carry and Diego. Ava was glad she never mentioned Diego to anyone, keeping her friendship with him in the shadows, unbeknownst to everyone. It was a dark part of her life, it still astounded her how she got something so bright during it. Only two people knew Ava came from an orphanage. Diego and JC. JC discovered it when Ava was still fresh out of the orphanage, influential and new. They dated for a bit but learned they worked better as ‘coworkers’. Since then, they’ve stayed strictly professional. Ava just hoped that he didn’t tell anyone, especially Adriel, about her past life.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Ava got up off of the spare bed in Diego’s guest room and moved to the window. Getting a nice apartment in NYC was probably one of the hardest things to do. Diego obtained a quaint apartment in an ok neighborhood. Crime was less likely, yet not impossible. The view was ok, facing the street, not offering anything special like the penthouses deep in the city. She looked at the alarm clock with green numbers on the nightstand. 2:35 AM.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Cars passed each other in the road, illuminated by each other's headlights. Few pedestrians stumbled home, most likely drunk at this time of night. Their lives were most likely simpler, maybe some were going through a tough time just like Ava. Who could know except them?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Ava leaned her forehead against the window and debated her options. After a while, she decided on something and crept out of the room. Looking down the hallway towards Diego’s room, she tiptoed her way down to the kitchen, opening the fridge, and grabbing a water bottle.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Back in her room, she realized she felt oddly bored. Back when she was running with JC’s crew, every moment was eventful. They went to parties until late into the night or just stayed at one of their apartments drinking and telling stories. She lost that. Well, lost wasn’t the right term. She threw that all away. But, it was for a good cause, right? She wouldn’t be terrifying or hurting anyone anymore. She wouldn’t mess up a worker’s job just because she stole something. The tether Adriel had wrapped around her throat was snipped.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Adriel. If it wasn’t for him, she wouldn’t be in this mess. Then again, if it wasn’t for him, she would probably be on the streets. He often went to orphanages, seeking out the older kids about to age out of the system. He would recruit them. Convincing them with empty promises, filling them with false beliefs. He told them they had potential. Told them that if they worked for him, he could make them rich. If only she knew. If only she wasn’t so stupid. The only thing he did for her was make her sign her life away to him. Infinitely in debt, working for him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Ava padded back towards the bed, glancing at the alarm clock. 3:45 AM. Had she really been up all that time? Shrugging it off, she slipped back into the covers, laying her head on the pillow. Eventually, the sleep lapping at her got full control of her. She was then dragged down to that senseless state.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Beatrice is on the hunt for Ava.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Brooooooooooooooooo, sorry for the hiatus, I have no idea why I'm updating while I should be studying for finals, but here we are. For my terrible upload schedule, I present to you LONG CHAPTER :D</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Beatrice stepped back after pinning that sheet of paper to the wall. ‘Ava Silva?’ was scribbled onto a piece of paper, right next to Adriel’s name. She didn’t know where to start. She could go back to Antonio’s and ask JC if he knew where she lived or what her routine was. But, if Ava was smart and Adriel was as ruthless as people said he is, her apartment and routine must already be askew. That left her with nothing.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Her contacts might know of someone named Ava Silva, but the likelihood of them knowing her was low. Bar-hopping was a choice, but then again, the likelihood of finding Ava Silva there or someone who knew her was close to zero in NYC.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Having no better ideas, Beatrice grabbed a black jacket and hat and the image JC had given her, hitting the streets. She wandered the streets, searching the faces of those who passed by her for the slight chance one of them might be the girl. For the first time since she obtained the photo, she looked at it, really looked at it. She had soft features. Her eyes were dark brown, almost black. The smile plastered on her face was ecstatic, she was beaming in the photo. Her teeth were a bright white, making her smile blinding. Beatrice could feel the jubilant energy coming off of the photo, a direct contrast of what Beatrice is. That’s what they were. Polar opposites. Ava seemed to dispatch positive energy, making those around her laugh and smile with her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Beatrice was dark, a husk of a person. The only emotions she showed was violence, rage, and exasperation. Genuine laughter hasn’t left her lips for years now. The death of almost everyone she knew and the ample amount of blood on her hands kept her hardened, calloused. Happiness grew foreign to her over the years.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Looking up from the photo, Beatrice realized she was in Queens. One of her friends from the Marines here led a therapy group for veterans. Deciding that she had no other leads, Beatrice headed in the direction of where the therapy group met.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Beatrice stepped into the building and looked at the sign in front of the secretary’s desk. They were luckily meeting in room 3B. Beatrice walked down the hallway slowly, looking at all of the signs on the doors. When she reached room 3B, she hesitated. She hadn’t seen Camila in over a year. They were in session right now, so she decided not to barge in. Not knowing what to do with herself, Beatrice decided to sit on the ground against the wall.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Her thoughts grew too loud when she was alone with nothing to do for no more than five minutes, so she pulled out the picture of Ava. She examined it closely, wanting to memorize her face. If she did, maybe she’d recognize her on the street. Definitely no ulterior motives.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The soft, dark brown eyes peered right into her. Like they were asking her who she was. Before she could get too lost in Ava’s eyes, Beatrice wrenched her eyes away. She examined the rest of her face, going over every crevasse and wrinkle on her face. Her smile was perfect, showing pure happiness. Her skin was tan, most likely the result of a vacation. There’s no way anyone is getting that tan in NYC, especially in the fall. Ava’s hair was a slightly curly soft brown, with hints of blonde streaking through her hair.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Beatrice couldn’t lie, this Ava Silva was quite attractive. It was easy to examine her face for hours, no matter the expression on it. Maybe in another life, under different circumstances could Beatrice appreciate her soft features more. But now, Ava was still a criminal under the influence of Adriel, one of the biggest, if not the biggest, crime boss in America. Beatrice hated people like that.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Before she knew it, people were funneling out of the room, passing by Beatrice. Realizing that the meeting was over and Camila was now alone, Beatrice tore her eyes off of the photo and got up off the ground. Poking her head in the door, she saw Camila picking the foldable metal chairs and putting them on racks. Not knowing how to start the conversation, Beatrice looked down at the photo in her hands that she was fiddling with, then back up at Camila. When Camila still didn’t notice Beatrice, she knocked on the door twice with a finger.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Group sessions over,” Camila said, still not looking up. “But if you want a one on one, I’ve got only twenty minutes,” Camila was still placing chairs on the rack and still did not look at who was knocking.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“My apologies,” Beatrice started. “I don’t want to take up your time,” Camila’s head snapped towards Beatrice. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Beatrice?” Camila asked, voice breaking due to emotion. She immediately bolted over and engulfed Beatrice in a bear hug. “I haven’t seen you in forever,” Beatrice could feel Camila’s tears trailing down and wetting her clothes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey Camila,” Beatrice let out a chuckle at the girls’ antics, wrapping an arm around the shorter girl. Camila was one of the only ones that knew Beatrice was alive. “How’ve you been?” She asked, pulling away from the hug, giving her a crooked smile.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh my god,” Camila immediately turned away and retrieved two of the chairs she had put away. “Sit, sit,” She offered Beatrice. Beatrice complied, knowing the wrath contained in the small, happy girl. “I’ve been good, what about you?” Camila asked with much eagerness.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve been,” Beatrice paused, looking anywhere but Camila’s eyes. “The same,” Beatrice decided. Camila’s face softened at the admission.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, Beatrice,” She said softly, a look of genuine concern in her eye. Before she could continue, Beatrice spoke up.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Enough about me,” Beatrice’s eyes finally found their way to Camila’s. “How’s everyone else?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, Lilith and I moved in together,” Camila said, a smile growing on her face. “We’re happy, we’re good,” Beatrice was smiling a genuine smile with her. She was happy for her friends, she really was.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Mary?” Beatrice asked.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, Mary,” Camila paused, trying to find the words. “She’s Mary, you know?” Beatrice chuckled and nodded, knowing exactly what the woman was like. “Last I heard from her, she’s marrying Shannon apparently and has gotten a job within the Department of Homeland Security,” Beatrice’s eyes widened.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” Her voice wasn’t concerned, it was amused. “Mary‘s getting married!?” Beatrice was astounded by the news. “To Shannon!? Damn,” She leaned back in the chair. “I always thought there was something between them,” Her head was shaking in disbelief.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I know right!” Camila laughed out. After calming down a bit, she spoke up again. “But she’s happy, she’s finally found peace.” Camila was nodding as she was speaking.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m honestly amazed,” Beatrice admitted. “DHS you say?” Camila nodded at the question. “Huh.” Camila tilted her head at the noise, much like a puppy.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s up?” Camila asked after Beatrice stayed silent.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Just thought she’d be homeless by now,” A slap to the arm was the response she got. “Hey! Asshole,” Beatrice murmured that last part under her breath. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I’m sure you didn’t come here to catch up,” Camila ignored the name-calling. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, uh, sorry,” Beatrice nodded, shamefully. “Do you uh- do you recognize this person,” Beatrice handed the photo to Camila. “Said her name is Ava Silva,” Beatrice informed the shorter girl.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No, no I haven’t,” Camila said, looking intently at the photo in her hand. “Why?” Camila asked, not looking up.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I uh- call it a lead,” Beatrice replied, taking in her surroundings out of actual curiosity and not because she was looking for threats. It was a mostly empty room. Four windows on the wall to her left, a table with leftover food and drinks next to the wall behind Camila. The floor was carpeted, but not that soft. The racks that hold the foldable chairs were on the wall directly behind Beatrice, accompanied by two cork boards and a cross.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, if I see her, I’ll be sure to call you,” Camila said, handing back the photo. “How important is she,” Her voice came out softer than before.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Pretty important,” Beatrice took the photo back. “If you see her, call me and tail her if you can,” Beatrice said, slipping the photo into her pocket.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Be honest. How are you really?” Camila prodded after a moment.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh,” After thinking for a moment, she let out a breathy chuckle. “I uh, I haven’t been sleeping much,” Beatrice was back into not being able to look at Camila, so her eyes were skimming around the room. “I dream of that day every night,” Beatrice admitted. Camila stayed silent, waiting for her to finish. “I’m not able to look at myself in the mirror. All I see is a monster. A killer,” Her voice was now shaking and breathy. “For as long as I was at war, I was never thinking about what happened next. What happens after. Whenever the silence came and the gunfire ceased, I was-” Beatrice paused and looked down, fiddling with her hands. “I mean how do you- how do you live in that?” She looked up at Camila’s eyes for a second before looking back down. “I guess that’s what you’re trying to do with those people. Trying to find how to live with yourself after being deployed, I respect that,” Beatrice looked up once more, hardening her face. “If you’re going to look at yourself- really look in the mirror, you gotta- yeah you gotta admit who you are,” Beatrice looked out of the small window in the room before looking back at Camila again. “But not just to yourself, you gotta admit it to everybody else. Until recently, for as long as I could remember, I didn’t have a war to fight. I was scared. Of what I might do, might become.” Beatrice stopped, turning her gaze to a spot on the wall just past Camila.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You should attend one of these meetings,” Camila began, voice soft and full of emotion. “I think it would really help,” She said getting up and pulling Beatrice into a tight hug.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, ok,” Beatrice let out a breathy chuckle at the hug. After Camila let go, Beatrice walked to the door at a slow pace, allowing Camila to catch up with her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m serious,” Camila said, stopping Beatrice with a hand on her shoulder. “Come and attend one of these meetings,” Camila looked at her with </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> face. No one could resist </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> face.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I will,” Beatrice agreed, nodding her head. “Eventually,” Beatrice admitted quietly.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We should get the gang together again,” Camila began, beaming at Beatrice.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m still dead to them,” Another breathy chuckle left her lips. “You, uh- you haven’t told Lilith, Mary, or Shannon, right?” Beatrice asked, nervously.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Camila replied. “No I haven’t,” Camila said with a small voice. “When are you going to tell them?” Camila piped up after thinking for a second.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know,” Beatrice admitted, not being able to look up at Camila in shame. “I guess whenever I need to. They don’t need that burden,” Beatrice moralized.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh and I do?” Camila joked, sarcastically.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No- I-” Beatrice started.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m just joking with you,” Camila admitted, letting out a small chuckle. Beatrice glanced up at the clock on the wall.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, I gotta get going now, I’m sure you have to too,” Beatrice started walking to the exit once again. “If you see that woman on the street you know what to do,”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I do,” Camila stopped at the exit. “See you soon Beatrice,”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, soon,” Beatrice said before stepping out of the building, inhaling the cold autumn air. Great, no lead there. Taking a chance once again, Beatrice started off down the street.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>~</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>12:13 PM. Great. She slept in. Ava rolled back the covers and reached for her phone. Nothing was there. She shot up and looked around the bed and nightstand for any trace of her phone. Panic began to set in when she realized it wasn’t there. Wait. Where is she? Memories of the previous day came flooding into her head. Oh right. She threw her phone away and got a flip phone to contact Diego with. That explained it. With a heavy sigh, Ava heaved herself out of bed, padding to the door.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Look who’s finally awake!” Diego called from the kitchen when Ava entered.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Ava shrugged him off.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“There’s cereal in this cabinet,” Diego slapped the cabinet he was talking about. “Bowls are right here,” He slapped another cabinet. “Silverware in there,” He pointed to a drawer next to Ava.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks,” She said, retrieving a box of cereal, bowl, and spoon. “How was your morning?” She asked him as she sat down next to him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Wasn’t bad,” He said, flipping through the magazine he had. “Went out to breakfast with my girlfriend, that’s about it,” Ava looked up at the word girlfriend.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, who is your girlfriend?” Ava asked, still not having any clue of who she was.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, uh, her name’s Dinah,” Diego answered simply.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m going to need more than that!” Ava said, slapping his arm eliciting a laugh from him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ok, ok!” He held his hands up in surrender. “She just got back from being in Afghanistan. She was working with some guy who got killed there,” Ava seized up at that. Adriel had a lot of drug connections in Afghanistan. Mostly Kandahar.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh- where in Afghanistan?” She asked. She wasn’t religious, but she’d be lying if she said she didn’t send up a quick prayer.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I think it was called Kandahar,” Shit.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmm,” Ava choked to get out after processing the information. “Does she make you happy?” Ava asked to quickly change the subject.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah she does,” Diego smiled as he thought about the question.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Good, I’m glad,” Ava gave him a pat on the back while internally panicking. Was Adriel connected to Diego’s girlfriend? Was anyone safe from the crime boss? Ava needed a contingency plan. She needed a way out of this. She’d get out of the state, country if she could, yet she lacked the funds to even buy groceries. She could walk… or hitchhike. Though, that seemed stupid in New York. She was hopeless. This is the end of her. She’s barely even 23 and she’s on a crime boss’ hitlist. Police and feds were out of the question. Adriel undeniably had planted his own men inside those places. Air. She needed air. “Hey, I’ll uh, I’ll be right back,” Ava said, moving towards the door.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, where are you going?” Diego called over his shoulder, a confused look on his face.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Just uh, need some fresh air, sorry,” Ava barely got out before the door closed. When it did, she dashed down the hallway and down the stairs. When she got to the lobby, she was trying to take in big gulps of air as she rushed to one of the exits, yet it felt like water was raging into her lungs, suffocating her. She felt trapped. Like she was drowning. Her hand flew over her chest to try and alleviate the panic and pain. Nothing happened. She couldn’t trust anyone. When she burst out of the building, the people walking by were giving her weird looks as she bent over, gasping for air. Her chest was tightening. She couldn’t breathe. Taking in her surroundings, she spotted an empty alley. Deciding that she was probably creeping out kids and intimidating their parents, she sped walked into the alley. Once she was behind a dumpster, she sat against a wall, still gasping for air. When she was dreaming of being free in the orphanage, this was not what she had in mind. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ava, that you?” Shit. She looked up and wiped the tears that had apparently left her eyes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No, not me,” She said, a feeble attempt at warding off whoever came around the corner.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, what’s going on?” It was Diego. He was now kneeling next to her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Just a bit overwhelmed, sorry to worry you,” During their time in the orphanage, Diego never cried. He stayed strong when Ava broke. She needed to do the same for him now.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, it’s ok,” He wrapped his arms around her. “Let it out, I’m here for you,” At that, Ava burst into sobs. She was shaking him with her. “Let it out,” He soothed her, rubbing her back with his hands. “Hey, why don’t we go inside, it’s kinda cold?” He asked her. She answered with a nod, letting him lead her back to his apartment. Once they stepped inside, Ava wasted no time and went immediately into the guest room. She was glad Diego decided to leave her alone. She needed some alone time.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>~</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Beatrice was lost. It was the middle of the night and she was walking down the street. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She had no idea how to find the girl. Walking the streets in hopes of possibly spotting her was just plain stupid. Bar hopping was an idea, yet that was also almost impossible. Where did that leave her? Nowhere.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Wait. Didn’t Camila say Mary was working for the Department of Homeland Security? Remembering that fact, Beatrice whipped out her phone. What was her number again? Shit.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, Camila?” Beatrice decided to just ask Camila. “What’s Mary’s address?” No sugar coating it. She didn’t have the time. Beatrice reached for the pen in her pocket and wrote the address down on her forearm. “Thanks, talk to you soon,” She hung up the call, not wanting to spare any time.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Ok. All she had to do was go to Mary’s apartment, tell her she’s alive, and ask if she’d be willing to find someone for her. Shit. How was she going to convince Mary to do it? One nightstand? No, that’s just laughable. Criminal? That could work, but Mary might get a little too skeptical. Should she tell her for what it is? Beatrice was out of ideas.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck,” Beatrice breathed out, deciding to leave that problem for when she got there.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Once she got to the apartment building Camila said Mary lived in, Beatrice pulled down her hat to hide her from security cameras and walked into the building. The sunglasses and mask that covered her nose and mouth she dawned also covered her eyes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Excuse me, ma’am, you can’t wear that indoors,” The man at the front desk called out to her. Beatrice didn’t even spare him a glance until she entered the elevator, pressing the button for the third floor.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Once Beatrice got to the apartment, she pulled out a piece of paper, a pen, and wrote ‘Mary - meet me outside in the alley’. Knowing how the government treats its own agents, their apartment had a chance of being bugged, so Beatrice didn’t want to take a chance. She put down the paper and knocked on the door, immediately going down the stairs to head outside.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Beatrice stood with her head down and her hand in her pockets, ready to move. She was planning to lead Mary to a secluded area where she knew wasn’t bugged. Beatrice heard the door open, so she slightly glanced up, just to confirm it was Mary and nothing else. She had put her hood over her hat, a black mask pulled over her nose and mouth, and kept the sunglasses on, so Mary wouldn’t be able to tell who she was. Once she confirmed it was Mary, she turned and walked down the rest of the alley, headed towards the Hudson River. If she was honest, Mary and Shannon must be pretty well off considering where they live.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>After she made sure Mary was following her, she walked over to an empty bench facing the river with no one around it and sat down. Mary soon followed suit.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Who are you and what do you want?” Mary asked Beatrice. Beatrice just handed her a piece of paper with the words ‘Are you bugged?’ scrawled on it. “No, I’m not bugged,” Mary answered with sass in her voice. Beatrice just handed her another piece of paper, still not showing her face. ‘Bodycam?’ Was scribbled on the paper. Mary sighed as she read it. “No.” She said, tired. With that, Beatrice got up and walked over to the railing. Mary followed soon after.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Once she checked the surroundings and made sure there were no security cameras or wandering eyes, she reached up, lowered her mask, and removed her sunglasses. Once they were off, she faced Mary.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Be-Beatrice?” Mary stuttered, which is something she never did. “What the FUCK, Beatrice!?!?” Mary yelled, Beatrice immediately looked around and looked alarmed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Keep your voice down,” Beatrice growled, still glancing around.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I thought you were dead.” Mary lowered her voice yet she was exasperated.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Here I am,” Beatrice was unamused and just wanted to get this over with.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Really? That’s all you have to say? ‘‘Here I am’?” Mary was speechless.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What, what do you want me to say? I’m alive. Surprise.” Beatrice really just wanted to hurry this on. If times were different, this reunion would be much more bitter-sweet instead of just being bitter.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you fucking kidding me!?” Mary had to refrain from slapping Beatrice. The thought was exceedingly becoming more rationalized with each word Beatrice said. “Lilith, Camila, Shannon, and I, we all mourned for you!” Beatrice scoffed and looked away towards the river again. “We cried over you! We got drunk at your grave! Hell, we even had a funeral for you! And all you can say is ‘here I am’ and ‘surprise’!?” Mary was now yelling and Beatrice couldn’t find it in herself to care.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you want me to say? Oh, sorry for faking my own death!” Beatrice integrated sarcasm into the last sentence.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, that’d be better!” Mary had to dig her nails into her palm to keep herself from slapping Beatrice. “When are you going to get it in that thick skull of yours that people still care about you?” Mary’s voice became more serious and concerned, realizing her friend might be in danger with herself.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, well you’re better off without me, Mary.” Beatrice kept her hood and hat on as she glanced around once again for possible threats, landing on the water rushing in front of them. “You know what happened to-” Beatrice wasn’t able to say her name. “Me being with her,” Beatrice squinted her eyes as she thought. “Me being by her side, it got her killed,” Beatrice finally was able to look at Mary, who’s eyes faltered when she saw the pure, raw emotion in Beatrice’s eyes. Determining whether it was rage, violence, or guilt was impossible. “I gotta fin-” Beatrice’s nose was scrunching as she spoke and Mary was able to tell it was both rage and violence. “I gotta find the bastard who took them from me and I gotta kill him,” Mary stood her ground as she saw the horror that was what Beatrice had become.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Where does it end?” Mary spoke up after a moment. Beatrice was taken aback, yet she hardly showed it on her face. “I look at you, and all I see is loneliness,” Mary recognized. Beatrice observed that she was good at hiding emotions. “Pain,</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not lonely or in pain, Mary.” Beatrice scoffed, exasperated.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Bullshit,” Mary added a twinge of sass when she called Beatrice out. “We’re all lonely in some way,” Mary was getting fed up with Beatrice.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So what do you want? What should I do? Should I let it go? Should I let him </span>
  <em>
    <span>live</span>
  </em>
  <span>!?” Beatrice was almost shaking in rage.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No, you asshole,” Mary had to grip the railing to stop herself from doing something they’d both regret.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mary knew how the war changed Beatrice. Mary started again after Beatrice chose to look towards the river and stay silent. “I know that bad things have happened to you-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t you fucking start with me!” Beatrice tore her eyes away from the river to get close to Mary and stare her down. “You don’t fucking know what I’ve done! What I’ve been through!” Beatrice was poking a finger into Mary’s chest.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Look, let’s stop the pleasantries,” Despite her pride, Mary decided that enough was enough. “You wouldn’t have come to me unless it was important, so what do you want?” Mary rubbed her eyes, wanting to go back to her apartment and go back to bed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I just need information on someone,” Beatrice admitted after mulling over her options for a moment.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Right,” Mary was more than agitated right now. “Who?” She asked, taking out her phone.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Girl named Ava Silva,” Beatrice accepted what was now happening and got her wallet from her back pocket. “Looks like this,” Beatrice showed Mary the photo.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh damn, he have her?” Mary asked, eyes softening. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No, uh,” Beatrice put the photo away. “She’s my key to him,”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah,” Mary nodded. “Right,” Mary clicked through her phone. “Says here she was orphaned at a young age, left at the St. Michael's Orphanage with this kid named Diego Cortez. They both have apartments,” Mary showed the phone to Beatrice, giving her the addresses.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you, Mary,” Beatrice said, putting her sunglasses and mask back on. “Don’t tell anyone about me, or I will kill you,” Beatrice deadpanned before turning around and walking.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, bye,” Mary said to Beatrice’s retreating form. “Asshole,” She then rolled her eyes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Ava grew up in an orphanage and was very close friends with one of the other kids. Beatrice honestly had no idea how Mary had found that, but it was a lead nonetheless. Now she had an address to try. Noticing the sun was peeking over the horizon, she took off her hood and mask and made for the building Mary found.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The streets and sidewalks bustled as Beatrice walked towards the address Mary had given her, hands stuffed in her pockets. This had to work as it was her only lead. If this didn’t work, she’d have to reveal herself so Adriel could find her. She wasn’t ready for that yet, so she opted for the less violent route.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Time passed quickly as she walked towards her destination. It wasn’t far, yet it wasn’t close. To distract herself from getting too buried in her thoughts, she engrossed herself in analyzing the people passing by her. She looked at their faces, wondering what they just experienced to feel that emotion. She wondered what their pasts contained, leading them up to this point. She wondered if any of them were criminals. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When she eventually reached the building, she stopped a few feet in front of it. She looked left and right before entering the building. She didn’t know the exact apartment her friend lived in, so she’d have to come up with something.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hello,” She said in a whisper. “My friend lives in this building and I want to surprise him because he just got a new job, but I forget the exact apartment,” She pretended to act secretive, as she glanced around the lobby for her ‘friend’. “Could you look up what room he’s in?” She asked, still whispering.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure ma’am,” The employee smiled behind the counter. “What’s his name?” He asked, turning to his computer.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Diego Cortez,” She hoped the name Mary had given her was correct.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ok, he’s in room 418 on the fourth floor. Elevators are right there,” The man pointed and Beatrice followed his finger to the elevators. “Stairs are to the right of the elevators. Don’t be afraid to ask if you need anything else,” He smiled at her, a little more than he needed to.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you so much!” She exclaimed before heading to the stairs. She didn’t like elevators. Slower and it’s hard to change plans.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Once she reached the fourth floor, she scoured the doors for one that said 418 on it. As soon as she found it, she knocked three times on it and looked down, avoiding the peephole.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hello?” Someone opened the door.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you Diego?” She asked the man at the door.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes. Why?” He didn’t open the door more than he needed to, which was already suspicious.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m with the Department of Homeland Security, we have reason to believe you are harboring a criminal in your apartment,” She came up with the lie on the stairs.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What, that can’t be right?” He opened the door a tad bit more, allowing Beatrice to push her way in. “Hey, no,” He said walking in behind her. “You’re not allowed to do that,” He argued.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Is Ava Silva in here?” Beatrice asked, ignoring Diego’s complaints.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>~</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Is Ava Silva here?” Ava heard the question from her bedroom.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Shit, shit, </span>
  <em>
    <span>shit</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” She panicked, scampering about the room in search of a hiding spot. She ended up in the closet, behind old clothes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know an Ava Silva, you have the wrong person,” She heard Diego cover for her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you, Diego,” Ava whispered from her hiding spot.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t lie,” She heard the female voice speak up again. “I know you both spent some time in an orphanage together,” </span>
  <em>
    <span>How’d she know that?</span>
  </em>
  <span> “You were close,” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Once again, what the fuck?</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Did you know she’s a wanted criminal?” Ava scoffed silently. That was hardly true. “Did you hear about the recent jewelry heist?” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ok, this is getting weird. Who gave her that information. Shit! JC!</span>
  </em>
  <span> “She was a part of that.” The female voice concluded.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Really?” Diego spoke up again. “No, I did not know that. But I can assure you, Ava and I lost contact years ago,” Diego said with a little bit of venom behind his words.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Then I’m sure you won’t mind me searching the place,” The female said. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Shit</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <span>“Hey, no,” Diego rejected her offer. “I’m going to need to see a badge and a warrant,” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Yes, Diego</span>
  </em>
  <span>! Suddenly a smack and a thud came from where the voices were coming from. Only one pair of footsteps were walking around the apartment. Doors were opening down the hall only increasing the anxiety and panic brewing in the pit of her stomach. Eventually, the door to the room Ava was staying in opened. The wooden floor creaked as the footsteps drew closer to the closet Ava. Ava pulled out the switchblade she carried on her at all times and opened it. As soon as the door opened, she lunged for whoever was opening it.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I'm too lazy to do the little Itallic thoughts thingy, last time you'll see it.</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I think Beatrice should have a pet Tiger in the show tbh.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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